seek shelter beneath the ponderous wall, a tall Arab, with
long brown hairy arms, swung his curved sword high above his head and
brought it down with such force that had I not dodged him just in time,
he would have smashed my skull. Lowering my rifle quickly till its muzzle
almost touched his flowing garments, I fired, but unfortunately the
bullet passed beneath his arm-pit, and flattened itself against the wall.
Again, muttering some fearful imprecation in Arabic, he raised his
gleaming blade, and, unable to fire at such close quarters, I was then
compelled to use my rifle to ward off his attack. For an instant we
struggled desperately, when suddenly he gave his sword a rapid twist,
jerking my weapon from my hands and leaving me unarmed at his mercy.

His features broadened into a brutal grin as, noticing me fumbling for my
pistol, he again raised his razor-edged Moorish blade, and holding it at
arm's length, gave one vigorous slash at me. Pressed forward towards him
by men engaged in mortal conflict behind me, I could not evade him, and
was about to receive the full force of what my adversary intended should
be a fatal blow, when suddenly a savage spear struck him full in the
throat, and stuck quivering there.

Instantly his sinewy arm fell, the heavy sword dropped from his nerveless
fingers, and he stumbled backward and fell to earth like a log.

"Thou art safe, O Master!" a voice cried cheerily behind me, and turning,
I saw that the man who had thrown his spear and saved my life was Kona.

Shouting an expression of thanks I bent, and, unable to recover my lost
rifle in the frightful _melee_, snatched up the dead Arab's sword that
had so nearly caused my death, then fought on by my deliverer's side. His
wounds were many, for blood was flowing from cuts and gashes innumerable
in his bare black flesh, yet he appeared insensible to pain, striving
forward, gasping as he dealt each blow, determined to conquer.

The fight continued with unabated fury--the bloodshed was horrible. The
open square before the gate of the Kasbah was transformed into a
veritable slaughter-yard, the stones being slippery with blood, and
passage rendered difficult by the corpses that lay piled everywhere. At
last, however, while engaged in another warm corner, the shrill,
awe-inspiring war cry of the Dagombas again sounded above the tumult, and
turning, I saw that by some means our men had opened the great gate, and
that they were pouring into